Fictional America

What better way to start a film blog than with a trilogy by a polemic auteur. Even if you don’t subscribe to auteur theory, there is such a thing, existing separate from others, called a Lars Von Trier film. And if there’s anyone who can churn out controversial trilogies, and plenty of them, is that particular Danish film director, the man behind the Dogme 95 movement.

USA - Land of Opportunities, comprising Dogville (2003), Manderlay (2005) and the as yet unproduced Wasington (see, I’m cheating already) is Trier’s latest trilogy to date.

I first saw Dogville on DVD because “everyone” was talking about it. I discovered certain things about this film; for starters, Nicole Kidman can actually act when pushed far enough. I say this because she is known, along with fellow Australian Naomi Watts, to make use of her “poker face,” denoting depth. Well, I have news for you; Marie Josée Croze or Sarah Polley, both Canadians and hotties in their own right, run laps around the two aussies when employing this technique. They have an inner life which is seldom seen.

But, not to get sidetracked, Kidman has it here and it’s a good thing because she has to carry a 177 minute film on her shoulders. Not that this isn’t an ensemble piece; it is very much so. Tom (Paul Bettany) who plays a philosopher trying to decipher “the human problem,” believes to find it in a runaway, almost messianic figure, Grace (Nicole Kidman) and use her as an illustration for the residents of Dogville. She is running away from her father, a mobster played by James Cann. Bettany makes it hard for the thinking man and woman not to empathize with him and by the time the film comes to a closure, the emotional investment you may have put in him may come back to bite you. He finally tells Grace: “Bingo. I have to tell you, your illustration beat the hell out of mine.” What an illustration that is.

Much has been made of the purported anti-americanism of the film, a view which holds no water as it is an extremely universal story. The film has also been used to depict “general equilibrium” in economy. H. Harmgart and S. Huck argue that “Lars von Trier’s movie Dogville can be viewed as an illustration of a simple economy where one agent has only her body as initial endowment” and go on to state that “what would it mean for them to depend solely on their endowments and nothing else–no rights, no protection, no regulation, no law?” Clearly, the film offers much food for thought.

The film was praised by Mick LaSalle, of the San Francisco Chronicle, who wrote: “In all my years of moviegoing, I've never had a picture lose me so completely and then win me back so thoroughly as this one. After a half hour, I was tired of it. After nearly an hour, I was struggling to stay awake. And then the movie took a slight turn, and I revived, then became interested, then involved, then caught up emotionally and then, finally, awestruck. This is a seriously important film and a huge achievement.”

Dogville was a though act to follow, and even though Kidman expressed initial interest, her role was ultimately recast with Bryce Dallas Howard and Cann’s with Willem Dafoe. Danny Glover provides a strong performance, with his quiet strong man, also used for good effect in Blindness.

Cole Smithey (related to Alan Smithee perhaps?) holds that the film is “an ambitious and thought-provoking allegory about the ways in which "slavery" in America was never truly abolished, but rather converted to a different condition of capitalist hegemony.”

I can’t help but thinking about The Wire and David Simon’s contention that people from the ghettos are really not a part of capitalism, not actually needed by the system, and as such are forced to accept the only possible form of capitalism available; narcotics.

The film presents an intriguing scenario; in the Manderlay cotton plantation, the slaves don’t actually want to stop being slaves; they know of no other way of life. But Grace wants to change the appalling situation, though things don’t go quite as planned. Some have pointed out this is an example of the short-sightedness of progressivism as a naïve enterprise. It’s a good point, and as a progressive myself, it is duly noted.

A vast sound-stage is used once again, yet the film is, like its predecessor, beautifully shot. John Hurt once again provides a delightful narration. Grace herself seems to have grown into something else, for better or for worse. She has lost her innocence, rest assured of that.